


Lessons to be Learned

by botanicalsock



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Breathplay, Dubious Consent, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 09:56:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7431324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botanicalsock/pseuds/botanicalsock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Becky keeps coming back for more. Set around the events of this week's Smackdown.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons to be Learned

The worst thing is that they're still fucking. Or maybe it's the best thing, Becky doesn't even know. She not sure she can trust herself, rely on her own judgment, not anymore, not when it comes to Nattie.

Because they're still fucking, and while yeah, in the past they always had great sex, amazing chemistry, it was never anything like _this_ , not like it is now. 

This is rough, intense, _violent,_ this is something entirely new. But whatever it is, somehow Becky can't get enough.

No matter how much she hates herself for it, she keeps coming back for more, barely through the door of Nattie's hotel room before she's viciously pushed face first up against the wall. The bruises from her latest fight are tender enough that she'll wince, sometimes even cry out, but that only makes it better. 

_Please,_ Becky will say, never knowing what she's asking for, but Nattie, this _new_ Nattie, anyway, always seems to know.

Tonight Nattie's got her pinned to the bed, wrists held tight above her head with one hand, and the other is on Becky's throat, tightening around her windpipe with growing, relentless pressure.

 _Come on,_ Becky wants to say, lungs beginning to scream for air, but the words won't come. She stares helplessly up at Nattie, whose eyes gleam back, dark with delight. "You wanna tap out?" she says, releasing Becky's wrists. "Huh, Becks? You wanna tap out?"

And Becky slams her fist repeatedly down on the bed, gasping in a huge, urgent breath when Nattie finally relinquishes her hold with a mocking laugh. "Always so desperate to give in, aren't you?"

"Fuck you," Becky replies, her voice hoarse, but she can't stifle her moan as Nattie's hand slides between her legs, into wet, slick heat and Becky presses up into the touch, dizzy with want, even now.

The next night, at Smackdown, she's eager to put it all behind her for at least a while, knowing the energy of the crowd will carry her like nothing else can. She bounces out through the smoke, nodding along to her theme, playing up to the audience, feeling their support lift her.

For just a moment, she can believe everything will be okay, but then she's hit from behind, breath knocked out of her before she can even react. Nattie's dragging off her coat, slamming her into the barrier, shoving her down on to the ground, fists flying.

She's flipped over, legs twisted up, held fast, the agony of it almost exquisitely unbearable. 

"You wanna tap out?" Nattie shouts at her, over the roar of the crowd, and Becky grits her teeth through the pain because she won't, not here, not in front of everyone. Her humiliation might be complete, but at least the worst of it is private, so she endures, holding on until Nattie lets her go with contemptuous flourish.

Becky lies on the floor, the refs fussing over her, watching as Nattie stalks away, triumphant.

And the shame of it is that tonight she'll once again be back for more, because yeah, here she is, knocking on the door of Nattie's hotel room like a beaten dog just begging for another kicking.

"Hey," Nattie greets her. "You going to come in, or you just going to stand there?"

"No," Becky replies, shaking her head. "No, I'm done with this, with you." She meets Nattie's cool gaze, swallowing hard. "No more."

"Fine," says Nattie, smirking, and just weeks ago Becky would have sworn on her life that Nattie was the best and purest person she had ever known, someone who didn't have an ounce of badness in her, not a drop. "Leave then." Nattie shrugs, casual. "I don't care."

And yet somehow Becky can't force herself to move. She stares down at the ground, hopeless, so mired in self-loathing and hurt she feels like she's paralyzed by it.

"We both know what you need," Nattie finally says, softer, and for a second Becky could swear there's the faintest hint of the old Nattie, but when she looks up, she knows she's wrong.

She's never been more wrong, but still, she walks into the room, ready to accept whatever will be given to her.


End file.
